Game Changer
by PiXEL10
Summary: Arthur is a punk player, for lack of better words. When a blonde American throws him off his game, will he bounce back? Will a certain Prussian do anything to hurt Arthur's chances? UkUsUk with a bunch of side pairings. (Chapter 2 will have better summaries)


Green, black-lined eyes gazed around the crowded room, searching for their captive prey for this night. Hetalia, the multi-cultured bar often visited by a certain Brit, was already crawling with people. Voices boomed over one another, vying for dominance as waitresses wound through throngs of locals and forgieners alike.

"Hola Arthur," Antonio, the bartender and owner, waved to his short friend. "What you gonna have tonight?"

Arthur Kirland sighed, settled in the bar's seating, his eyes still scanning the crowd. "Mmm," his green eyes flickered to Antonio, "Vodka."

The Spainard gave a wry smile and began rummaging until he found the correct bottle. "Not too many Russians tonight. If you're dead set, there's always him." Antonio shrugged in the direction of a giant monstronisity of man, a light pink scarf adjourning his shoulders.

Arthur grimaced, that man was somewhat of a regular, he showed up enough for the blonde to know of him. Arthur also knew the mammoth-sized Russian was in a sickly-sweet dedicated relationship with a meekly Canadian.

"Blast," Arthur downed the shot of his vodka, welcoming the burn in his throat. "Mmm, then I'll have..." His eyes once again combed the crowd.

Antonio smiled, as a smile was his usual, and patiently waited for his friend to choose. This was their game: Arthur would choose a drink, one from any different country, signifying not only that he wanted that drink but a man to match it. Antonio would point out any possible men. He would chat them up, intoxicate them with booze, compliments, and his emerald eyes. Then the punk male would take them home for a one night stand, then return the next night for a new toy.

Antonio gave a wistful sigh, there was more to Arthur than just his punk appearance and sex appeal. Maybe it was just that Antonio was attracted to tsuderes, but Antonio truly wanted more for Arthur. He wanted him to find out what it was like to have an actual committed partner, one who loved him for more than his body. Someday Antonio hoped Arthur would find someone he would never part with, someone like Antonio's Lo-

"GODDAMMIT TONI! STOP SPACING THE FUCK OUT AND GET TO WORK, YOU STUPID BASTARD!" Unfazed, the Spanaird turned back to see his Italian counterpart hard at work at the stove, frying various bar foods accustomed around the world. "Arthur isn't going anywhere. We have a full house with plenty of thirsty bast- customers. Now kick into to fucking gear!"

Arthur watched the two lovers argue, actually it was just Lovinio cussing and Antonio smiling stupidly as he made a plethora of beverages. He wasn't jealous in the slightest. _In the slightest, understood? _He scolded that little pang of sad jealousy that hid in the depth of his core.

No, he had a much better time being as he was. Clad in skinny jeans and a leather jacket, he could be with plenty different lovers in a week. Antonio? He was stuck with the same bloke everyday, every night. Surely it must get boring being in a monogamous relationship. Arthur could barely be entertained with the same toy for two days, how Antonio and Lovinio could stick together confounded the blonde. And he certainly did not want that.

He did not want to be in love. At all. At. All. He shoved that little pang away once more, trying not to lose his head. This was his game, these were his toys, it was his control.

"Yo, dude! Anyone home?" A large hand waved in front of the Brit, scaring the hell out of him. He jumped back, the unstable barstool giving way under him a tipping dangerously. "Whoa!" A broad hand, probably the other of this stranger's pair, clapped him loudly on the back. Arthur managed to keep from tumbling.

Angry, the man turned his acid glare to this rude being. "What the hell was that about!?" He faced a tall, tan, electric blue-eyed youth, he couldn't have been more than twenty. Arthur tried not to be unnerved by thos bright eyes.

"Sorry," he brought a hand up to scratch his cheek sheepishly, probably a routine geasture. "I just saw you starin' off looking all sad and stuff. So..." He smiled, a blinding pearly unhuman smile as Arthur deemed.

"So what? Why were you even staring at me in the first place," Arthur had meant to give a plain 'Sod off' but his words weren't coworking with his brain at the moment. Hopefully the American would still read the mood and leave.

A loud laugh escaped his lips, apparently he could read the mood as well as the Spainard idiot. "Simple," he proclaimed, a michevious smirk playing his features. "I pay attention to things that interest me."

"Wha?" Well, that was the most intelligent question to ever leave Arthur's mouth.

"You, dude!" The American smiled.

Arthur felt something his chest deflate, a slight blow near his chest. Was this just a man who had heard of him through the grapevine and was looking for a fun night? No, that was perfectly fine with Arthur. He was a handsome lad, Arthur could have done worse. He was not sad, he was fine. Fine.

"I wanna get to know ya!" The American propped his hands on his elbows, giving the shorter a look from the side.

And Arthur saw more in his gaze, something more than lust could ever be, something more sincere and more genuine. Instantly blood rushed to his face, his heart began to race, this was entirely new to the man.

"Y-You idiot. You don't just walk up to perfect strangers and say that! Hell, I don't even know your name!" Getting nervous? Losing his cool? This was most certainly not Arthur's best.

"Well, that's easily solved. Here," the American pushed a flat palm at Arthur, giving him a strong handshake. "Name is Alfred F. Jones. Just moved here! Your name's Arthur, I heard the Spanish dude call ya that. But I'm gonna call ya Artie!"

In an instant, all of Arthur's shakiness vanished. Now they were not strangers, now he knew Alfred F. Jones was a loud, albeit handsome man who was handing out idiotic nicknames.

"Arthur," the man stated firmly, a cute pout on his face.

"Fine, ya don't like Artie," he pondered something. "How about Iggy?" The man opened his mouth to retaliate. "Just so you know, the nicknames only get stupider."

"Ugh, fine," Arthur put up a hand to show defeat.

"Hey, let me buy ya a drink," Alfred looked at the menu, instantly picking two of Arthur's favorite brews.

"How did you know," he asked, more suprised than anything else, trying not to harbor on the fact that he was sure the blonde youth was using a fake ID.

Alfred rolled his eyes, "I told ya already, Artie. I pay attention to things that interest me."

Arthur laughed, despite the fact he used that moronic pet name.

"Well, I gotta go," Alfred watched his Canadian twin stand to leave. "My bro is letting me crash at his house 'til I'm moved in." He turned to leave, giving a 'Hope to see you' before exiting with the Russian-Canadian duo.

"Well," he sighed and turned to look at Antonio. "I guess I'll try something Polish." He tired to find something to his mind off of Alfred and the light feeling in his chest.

"Amigo, it is last call. You and the American talked for the whole night," he smiled as if he knew some unknown secret.

"W-What?!" Arthur all but shrieked. Sure, he had fun talking to Alfred, a lot more fun than he had in a while, but all night!?

Well, this was a game changer.

**Whoo! New story, in a rush to upload! Review and comment! Thanks for reading, new chapter up when I have time :D Thanks!**


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